


On Nightingale Wings

by Elva_VanHelsing



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Gen, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elva_VanHelsing/pseuds/Elva_VanHelsing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice; Mama Fortuna's "little Nightingale" taken off the street by fate and Bruce Wayne: How long is too long before the "good" in a kid can't be salvaged?<br/>Nightingale Industries; The largest criminal network Jump City has ever seen: Is it real? Or just another street kid myth?<br/>The Riddler's Protégé; one of the most sought after thieves in Gotham: She could have the world, so why does she keep saying no?<br/>Arkham's Ghost; leaving only two things behind:<br/>A phone call, and a haunting melody<br/>"Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai,<br/>Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Nightingale Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind this is a work in progress and the writing style is entirely experimental; any feedback is greatly appreciated. Also please note: some scenes may be a bit unsettling.

Superman once described Gotham as a nightmare built from metal and stone; he wasn’t wrong, but that’s just another one of those things people are used to when they grow up with it. Still though, it raises an awfully good question: why do they stay?

It was raining that day, and still the streets of the East End were crowded with people good, bad, and shades of grey. Richard Grayson was among them, the small boy of nine or ten weaving nimbly between the people as he made his way back to Wayne Manor. Moving the other direction, a small girl did the same, her pace a run as she threaded between people with a practiced ease. At least until she and Dick tried to dodge in the same direction. The two collided, stumbling slightly before they managed to regain their footing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”  _ Lift the wallet, palm the cash _ . Dick forced a small smile as they turned, still facing each other and yet continuing along their paths.

“That’s alright,” he turned away.  _ Drop the wallet, pocket the cash. _

“Wait,” the girl lifted a small leather wallet from the pavement as he turned back.  _ Pay Mama Fortuna her dues, lest she leave you in the cold come December. _ “Is this yours?” Dick blinked in surprise, checking his pockets before giving a slight nod.

“Thanks,” he frowned his confusion down at it as she gave the wallet back. She studied him a moment longer, taking a hesitant step back, as if she needed to leave, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Are you alright?” Dick stared and started to say yes, but when he opened his mouth to speak… something about her green eyes and gentle smile made him tell her everything. And she listened, not a word out of place, and left him feeling better than he had since his parent’s “accident”.

It wasn’t until he got home that he realized all of his cash was gone.

****

Mama Fortuna had turned into a witch by the time the girl returned to her place with the day’s “dues” a whole two hours past curfew. The girl had pulled similar stunts in the past, pushing at any rules she could as if trying to get a feel for just how much Mama would put up with before snapping, but she’d never gone this far before, and this time her talents wouldn’t help her. A switch snapped in Mama’s hands just as the girl opened the back door and there was a second of collective relief in the eyes of the other orphans… until Mama heaved herself to her feet, cursing her old bones, and went to retrieve another.

“You’re late, and we’re all gonna get beat for it!” One of the boys spoke to the girl in an outraged whisper, but Mama returned before she could do more than glance at him.  

“You had better have come back with a lot of dues, little Nightingale, or you won’t be getting away with your deviances much longer,” Alice set her total earnings from the day on the table in front of Mama, the bills stacked neatly in the order of value and the rest organized by object, everything from high end watches to gaudy, solid gold necklaces that weighed far more than they were worth in her opinion. Mama’s eyes glittered at the sight, a cruel smile twisting across her thin lips and making her wrinkled face rather nightmarish. A low laugh rumbled out of the old woman as she looked slowly back up at Alice. “That’s my girl,” Alice resisted the urge to cringe at the woman’s words, “the rest of you could do well to be like her,” Mama glanced briefly at the rest of her ragged little gang; none of them dare reply, they were all too afraid of the switch. “I presume you have a good excuse for your tardiness, to go with this?” She gestured to the pile in front of her and Alice swallowed; Mama had never allowed them to act outside of her control, and she had certainly never done less than switched within an inch of their lives those that tried to help people, and so Alice had a rather difficult decision to make. Instinct said to lie; lying would keep her alive on the short term, but… Well, Mama had never tried to switch Alice before. Part of Alice knew there was a reason beyond the surface “don’t damage your best race horse” logic that Mama would have everyone believe.

“I was helping someone,” Alice’s voice was soft when she finally spoke the truth. The room fell into complete still, the silence tense as the other kids held their breath and Alice watched a confirmation flicker in Mama’s eyes. Preservation of self- the instinctual need to keep one’s self alive made fear fill the old woman, and Alice watched in fascination as Mama was forced to make a choice: switch Alice and risk her own life at the likely retaliation, or break her own rule and allow the girl to go on pushing her to the limit of her control. The old woman raised the switch, much to Alice’s excitement, but the girl bolted before Mama could grab her. Mama stumbled slightly as she was forced to change directions, Alice sliding past too quick for her to catch.

Then there was a kitchen knife in Alice’s hand, nothing special with a chipped blade and a loose handle, but still the edge gleamed in her fingers.

And blood dripped from the end, the sound of each drop joining the rest the only sound in the room until it grew too loud and Alice dropped the knife, her fingers clutching at her head and knotting in her white blonde hair as she screamed; she couldn’t stand the sudden dissolution of energy that had flooded her senses.

****

Bruce Wayne was a little bit famous in Crime Alley; every year on the same day, he came back to leave flowers where his parents had been shot, and this year was no different in that regard. Dick Grayson was with him this time, having to break into a jog every now and then to keep up, his height barely reaching Bruce’s hip. They stopped, Bruce kneeling down to set his flowers at the memorial as Dick watched with quiet eyes. It was as they turned to leave that they heard a quiet groan from within a damp refrigerator box to one side of the alley. Curiosity got the better of the two of them as they exchanged a brief glance and Dick cautiously approached the box. He got down on his knees and peered into the open end of the box to find a very familiar form unconscious inside.

“Hey Mr. Wayne, there’s a kid in here,” he sat back on his heels and looked up at his surrogate father with a frown. Bruce approached him and peered past into the box, as if he didn’t quite believe Dick’s claim. The girl inside groaned again and her eyelids twitched, as if she didn’t quite have to strength to wake up. He pulled her out with a surprisingly strong grip and examined her with an investigative eye. She was pale, her skin a shade somewhere between grey and blue, dark rings around her eyes and cuts and bruises patterning most of her bared skin. Dick pulled her shirt back down to cover her rail thin body and sighed, silently kicking himself for not noticing how bad she looked the first time they’d met.

“He looks to be a victim of abuse,” Bruce finally spoke and glanced up at Dick, “we’ll take him to the clinic up the road, I’ll give Gordon and call and he’ll handle it.” He lifted the girl gently in his arms, momentarily surprised at just how light she was; she was awfully small for her age.

****

One of the doctors had come out to meet Bruce and Dick when they came into the clinic carrying the unconscious girl. Now she lay still unconscious in one of the beds, but at least now she had a medical drip pumping all of the things she’d been missing into her arm. Dick was slouched uncomfortably in the chair beside her bed, a bitter expression furrowing his brows as he glared at her, waiting for Bruce to finish his call with Commissioner Gordon. The girl groaned again and Dick straightened in his seat; his father’s watch had vanished from his wrist at some point when the two met the last time, and he fully intended to confront her about it, victim of abuse be damned. She opened her eyes, shifting slightly as for a moment she felt nothing but the never ending, sometimes rather painful flow of energy between the atoms of the world. She squeezed her eyes shut, kneading her temples with her knuckles; ergokinesis was to her, both a blessing and a curse. Most days, it was more of a curse. When she opened her eyes again, blinking the pain away and glancing around the small room, she frowned.

“Where am I?” She spoke to no one in particular.

“The Wayne Clinic in Crime Alley, we found you in a box,” The girl stared at Dick with a mixture of surprise and worry in her eyes when he spoke; she hadn’t expected someone to answer.

“A box,” she smirked, “small thanks,” she trailed off with a hint of sadness; the box had been small thanks from the Alleytown Kids for their temporary freedom, and an unspoken goodbye when she couldn’t very well stay with them and the body.

“You stole my father’s watch,” the girl blinked in surprise at Dick, not entirely sure what he was talking about, “I had it on when you bumped into me and lifted my wallet. After you left, it was gone.” She frowned, sitting up in her bed.

“Look, kid-“

“My name’s Dick.” He cut her off and she rolled her green eyes.

“Alright then, Dick, I didn’t take your watch, you showed it to me when you talked about your parents, it was a cheap old thing, and even if it had been worth a million bucks and a ticket out of Gotham I wouldn’t take it,” she looked as if he’d insulted her, “family heirlooms are off limits in my book.” Dick scoffed.

“Oh, so you’re a thief with a heart.” The girl’s gaze narrowed, the lights in the clinic beginning to flicker as she felt her anger crackle into the power grid.

“I only stole because it kept me alive,” she practically growled the words.

“Then maybe you should have died.” The second the words left his mouth, Dick wanted to take them back; he’d never said something so cruel to anyone before, but something about this girl and the loss of his father’s watch made him consider things he’d never even think of before. At the same second, the lights of the clinic flared to life in a power surge before the bulbs shattered and the white noise of the city block’s generators went dead. Dick stared at the girl for a long time in the sudden silence. “Did you do that?” The girl groaned, kneading her head with her knuckles again.

“It was an accident,” her voice was barely a whisper when she answered him. He started to reply, but Bruce chose then to step back into the room.

“He’s awake.” Dick and the girl both frowned at him.

“She,” Bruce blinked in confusion at Dick, “She’s a girl.” The girl nodded slightly and Dick looked back at her, “What’s your name?”

“Alice.” Bruce blinked again and then seemed to come back to himself.

“Alright then, Alice. I’ve contacted Commissioner Gordon, he’ll send a squad car to pick you up as soon as they sort out this power outage,” he glanced up at the broken light, “apparently the surge was city-wide, may require some investigation…” he trailed off in thought, his words becoming a quiet mumble before Alice finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.” He frowned at her.

“For what?”

“It was an accident, really, I just…” she trailed off, lowering her gaze to her hands, “I can’t always control it.” Bruce’s frown grew deeper, if that were possible.

“Control what?”

“My influence,” Alice frowned, as if trying to come up with the perfect words to explain, “on everything…” Bruce was quiet for a long time before her meaning seemed to finally dawn on him.

“Ergokinesis.” She nodded a slight confirmation and Bruce breathed a heavy sigh as Dick stared from one to the other and back again.

“What’s ergokinesis?”

“Something I’ll have to inform Gordon about. Dick,” Bruce finally turned to the boy, “come, we’ve got things to do. She’ll have to wait here for the Commissioner.”  Dick frowned.

“But-” He started to protest, but he didn’t get far.

“Now.” Dick breathed a heavy sigh and climbed to his feet with a final glance at Alice. She gave him a half-hearted wave and a smile to match.

“Good luck finding your father’s watch. I’ll let you know if I see it.” He forced a small smile in thanks and disappeared after Bruce. Alice’s own smile ran away from her face as she watched them go, her expression reset in an emotionless mask. “The Commissioner, hmm?” She glanced down at the old leather watch on her wrist before letting her sleeve slide back over it, “I don’t really want to talk to the police.”

****

The location was disappointing to say the least. A large, open expanse of green with a winding creek, a few trees, and a handful of quaint little gazebos that, on any other day, would shelter picnicking couples. This was a soft little oasis in a shiny concrete and metal wasteland, not a location of any interest to a criminal network. And yet Robin had checked and rechecked his information as best he could, and still found himself standing on the edge of a field of green. He glanced down at the new watch on his wrist; half an hour, the time had come and gone but the park remained deathly silent.

If Robin had a list of the worst criminals he’d had to deal with in his life, it would probably start with Tony Zucco, followed closely by Slade Wilson, then Red X, and any number of others he’d come across. But now, well… let’s just say that everyone got bumped down a notch when she turned up. The arrival of Alison Nightingale in Jump City went unnoticed; the papers didn’t mention her, the police weren’t informed, the city’s reported population didn’t change, and that was alright. Alice liked to be unseen by the public eye. Her arrival did not go unnoticed by Jump City’s underground, though; after all, it isn’t often a ghost comes from out of town.

Within the year, Alice had taken the shunned and the outcast, the petty thieves and the gutter rats, and built an empire unlike any Jump City had seen. They were untraceable, unholdable, and unrelatable; if one was caught, nothing stuck, and nothing was ever traced past the individual, let alone to Alice. She’d called it Nightingale Industries once as a joke, “dealing in anything and everything without leaving a trace,” but the name stuck.

And so, Jump City’s largest criminal empire grew to infamy, but it was nothing more than a nameless whisper in a dark room.

Like a mathematician constantly returning to “P versus NP”, or the Riddler to an unsolvable riddle during his stay in Arkham Asylum, Robin returned in dry crime spells to the mystery of Nightingale Industries. It became an obsession, a fixation that left a model of the city and blurry photographs, possible links and gaps to be filled, covering most of his room in Titan Tower, all tied together by red string and question marks.

Until that day.

It was nothing special, just a time and a location overheard while passing a pair of ragged street kids; the only reason he’d noticed at all was the word “Nightingale”, said like a breathless exhale.

Robin checked his watch again and let out a disappointed sigh.

“What is wrong, friend-Robin?” He jumped, spinning around to find that not only had Starfire drifted up behind him, but she had been accompanied by the rest of the Teen Titans as well.

“What’re you guys doing here?” He stared at them in confused surprise.

“You’ve been locked in your room obsessing over some street kid myth, and then when you finally come out, you go glare at an empty park?” Beast Boy sounded as confused as Robin felt, though clearly for different reasons.

“We were worried, so we tailed you,” Raven was the one to finally answer the question, and Robin stared at them for a long time before he finally started to explain. He started to speak, but before he could get a word out, a beautiful melody reached their ears from the empty park and all eyes turned to find the source. Robin kicked himself for not seeing her sooner; she lounged rather contentedly in a tree nearby, one of her legs dangling lazily from the branch and her arms relaxed across her chest as she sang quietly.

“Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement's. You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin's.” The words were those any child would know, but the melody was different, and something about her sweet, haunting voice was both hypnotic, and bone chilling, “When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey.” Robin was the first to move, drawing closer to the girl’s tree, “I swear I'll be quick, Say the bells of Shoreditch.” At the changed line he frowned, stopping in his tracks. The girl opened one eye, examining him briefly as she continued, “Just hear my plea, Say the bells of Stepney.” A shadow flickered in her green eyes, “You'll feed the crow, Says the great bell of Bow.” Somehow, without changing her melody, the line managed to carry an edge that made Robin shiver as she closed her eyes again, “And you'll do well to remember To pay your dues come December; Else she send a candle to light you to bed, and she send a chopper to chop off your head.” Starfire inhaled sharply at the line, breaking the spellbound silence as the girl hummed her melody.

“Who are you?” She opened her eyes again at Robin’s voice, gazing down at them as if gauging a possible threat or examining a fascinating new organism.

“She'll hum a melody at the hushed end to thee: ‘Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai.’” She sung the final verse as if they hadn’t made a sound, the melody sure to haunt their sleep for the next few nights at least.

“What was that song?” Robin tried again and the girl studied him a moment longer before she swung herself down from the branch, landing lightly on her feet.

“It’s just something I picked up from the alleys,” when she spoke, Robin recognised a slight accent; he knew it, but he couldn’t quite place it, “lovely little melody, isn’t it?” Starfire could keep quiet no longer beside Robin, her eyes on the cusp of a glow as she finally spoke.

“That’s terrible! How could you make a song of something like that!?” The girl shrugged in a way that made very clear the difference in their childhoods.

“It’s quite simple, actually; you know that saying? You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar? That’s not how things work on the street,” Her head tipped slightly to one side, as if examining their reactions, “The song is a warning: try to beat them at their own game, and you’ll only end up as carrion,” she flashed a slight smile, as if in admiration of the whole thing, “and nothing will be traced back to them.” Robin’s frown grew deeper.

“To whom?” Another shrug, graceful enough to make him almost forget how noncommittal a gesture it was.

“The Network, Jump City’s Alleytown Kids, the ones we left behind,” her gaze drifted lazily back to Robin, “take your pick,” she paused in thought, “though I believe the most popular is Nightingale Industries.” For a second it felt as though Robin’s heart had stopped, pumping the familiar sense of triumphant pride through his veins almost immediately after. He’d been right, he hadn’t wasted most of the last year chasing a myth… so then why was he suddenly filled with an unshakable dread?

Starfire had continued to argue the immorality of the song with the girl while Robin had fallen silent, but it was difficult to tell who was winning when one only grew more frustrated and the other seemed to be paying her no heed.

“How do you know so much about Nightingale Industries?” Robin finally broke his silence and Starfire’s eyes widened slightly.

“What?” Her gaze flickered to the strange girl briefly.

“Hmm,” the girl’s lips were tugged briefly into a knowing smile, “I wonder,” she spoke softly as blonde, almost white, hair shadowed her eyes.

“In about ten minutes here, you’ve given me more information about them than I’ve managed to gather in a year,” he paused in thought, “you’re one of them, aren’t you?” The girl’s laugh was harsh.

“Well now, isn’t that some backwards thinking,” she spoke as if to a child, the look in her eyes saying she knew full well that the tone would grate on his nerves, “Really, if you have so little on them, how can you tell what I say is any more true than the rest?” She laughed again, this time as if at a personal joke, “Now isn’t that a riddle?” Robin glared at the tone to her words; it was all just a game to her.  

“How do I know it isn’t?” The girl shrugged again and started to turn away without an answer. “Hey, I’m not done talking to you!” The girl turned a suddenly cold gaze on him that sent a chill down spine and made her song echo in his ears, ‘Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai’; it was almost as if he was looking for a soul in the eyes of a corpse.

“Well,” the empty look was replaced almost immediately with ‘polite’ disregard, “I’m done talking to you, so,” she turned again, “goodbye.” She waved two fingers in a half salute as she started to walk away. She didn’t get far before Starfire grabbed her arm.

“You can’t just leave,” the girl whipped around, jerking free of the other girl’s grip.

“Don’t touch me.” Her voice was a low growl as her green eyes came alight with a sourceless golden glow, as if reflecting a light the rest couldn’t see.

"You're either a coward or a selfish bastard. Robin can't find these people alone." Robin glared at her words.

"I don't need her help, I'll do it myself." The girl relaxed back into her state of nonchalance.

"Alright then, if that's settled," she looked pointedly at Starfire, "in the ingenious words of Elvis Costello, 'I wish you luck with a capital F'," the entire team glared at her for that one, despite her directing the jab solely at the Tamaranean, and she turned her back on them again, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her denim shorts.

"Fine then, you're too heartless to understand anyway!" Starfire shouted after the girl but she only gave a light laugh.

"That's the best you could come up with? Well then," she laughed again and flashed her finger over her shoulder at the other girl, "my middle finger salutes you."

“Self-centred, cheating, cruel, sadistic, lying, scum of the Earth,” she continued on as if Starfire’s insults meant nothing to her, “crook!” The girl froze, and for a few shocked seconds, it seemed as though time had stopped. The girl turned slowly on the heel of her scuffed red boots, her gaze unnaturally empty. It seemed an eternity passed with Starfire the subject of her scrutiny before the girl’s words finally broke the silence like lightning across the sky.

“They say that some people cause happiness wherever they go and others, in my experience, cause only headaches,” the girl spoke thoughtfully, her gaze never faltering in its hold of the Tamaranean’s, “You I believe, are of the latter category.” Starfire stood fuming as the rest of the team stared in shock, but the girl was far from being done. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Starfire,” the girl smirked at the momentary surprise that flickered across Starfire’s rage, “the people call you one of the heroes, but you’re nothing but a flirt-” Starfire’s eyes blazed to life and she struck out with an energy bolt, but the girl slipped aside with ease.

“I’m not a flirt!” The girl laughed lightly, dodging another blow.

“No, you’re right, you yield too easily to be called a flirt.” The girl grinned as she dodged each attack, like she was playing a child’s game, “You’re a harlot, covetous of attention from others and devoid of both love and shame.” Starfire snatched at the girl, letting out an outraged yell as she slipped away again, the girl’s laugh taunting her. The other Titans shook free of their shock and ran forward in an attempt to restrain Starfire, but it was far too late for that. “You’re nothing more than an impetuous child who refuses to see humanity for what it is: stuck in the gutter and doing anything to get themselves closer to the stars.” Those words broke her, and Starfire threw off her friends in her rage, losing logic as she set loose a powerful blast of energy that levelled the entire park. Raven scrambled to protect the rest of the team inside a shield of black, and as the dust settled, a scene began to unfold in front of them they wouldn’t soon forget. The girl had an iron grip on a now drained Starfire’s throat, all signs of humanity gone and her eyes swallowed by the eerie golden light. “You should’ve just let me walk away.” Her voice was soft and even, absent of emotion as she stared into Starfire’s fear filled gaze. She didn’t move in the girl’s grip, didn’t struggle and didn’t try to break free despite her superhuman strength; it was as if she couldn’t move.

Then she began to blow away, as if she’d been nothing but sand all along, and now that an intangible wind had picked up, she was being taken apart grain by grain.

Until there was nothing left.

****

Alice lifted the cup of tea the two round cousins had set in front of her without hesitation or apprehension. In any other case she’d have been wary of any consumable these two handed her, but for her purposes it didn’t really matter what sort of drug was in the drink. The cup disintegrated into a swirl of molecules like a twister in an invisible globe cradled on her fingertips as Deever and Dumfrey Tweed stared in shock. The wonderful thing about being Alice was that despite all of the incredibly annoying ‘head hunters’ trying to recruit her to their gangs, she could very easily decline the request without fear of the consequences.

“You seem awfully keen for me to join, but in all honesty,” Alice wore her Cheshire smile, “I find you to be a bunch of immature hacks, and I’d really rather I were never associated with your little Wonderland Gang.” The two villains turned beet red as they started to protest angrily, but the swirl of molecules on Alice’s fingertips reversed its direction and reassembled themselves into a submachine gun. “I wouldn’t recommend trying to detain me.” The men scrambled for a moment to regain some of their composure as she watched with a twisted fascination: would they let her go despite the tarnished reputation they’d have to work to hide later, or would they risk getting shot?

“You’ve got no bullets.” One of them stammered out the words, Tweedledee she thought, though it was difficult to know when they looked so much alike. Alice laughed lightly.

“You know the beauty of my ability,” she released the clip from the gun and showed them the bullets before locking it back into place and chambering a round, “I can borrow molecules from around me and turn them into anything I like,” with enough practice of course, but she opted to leave that detail out of the conversation.

“Fine, get out, then,” Alice flashed a satisfied smile and stood. She was going to leave, but something in her just couldn’t do it without one last insult, so as she reached the door she paused. She turned back to them with a wry smile.

“Thank you for the tea,” she tipped her head slightly to one side, “even if it was drugged.” She tossed the submachine gun to them, and as it left her fingers, it disintegrated back into a swirl of molecules and had reassembled the original tea cup by the time it reached the cousins. They stared at the cup for a moment before looking up again, but Alice was gone without a trace.

****

Gone. Alice’s cell was empty, no matter how long one stared at it. Still the other prisoners kept staring, as if she’d suddenly appear before them with a wry smile like it had been just another one of her games with Professor Hugo Strange. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before, bending the light around her so that the cell appeared empty; light was just another form of energy after all. But that had been short periods of time and this, this had been perfectly timed and lasted longer than she normally could.

****

Professor Strange sat in his office doing research, pouring over a patient file he found rather fascinating, jotting down notes as a classical record spun round and round on the player a few feet away. The phone on his desk rang, the obnoxious tone cutting painfully through the peace. Strange exhaled deeply and set aside his pen before lifting the receiver to his ear.

“Hello, Doc.” The voice on the other end of the line spoke before he could get a word out, and her familiar voice over the phone sent a chill down his spine as his gaze flicked briefly back to the open file on his desk.

“Alison?” He found his mouth dry when he finally managed to speak the name, and for a moment there was no sound, only an unfractured silence that she had held so dear. He swallowed, “How did you get access to a phone?”

“Ah yes, I’d nearly forgotten,” Alice smiled briefly, her voice soft and lilting, and as she spoke, the record began to skip as the track came to an end. Strange glanced over at it, “the guards don’t come by until,” she paused, drawing out the last word as if it were a song, “now.” As if queued by her word, the alarm blared in the hall outside, emergency lighting casting Strange’s office in a dim sepia glow. “Sorry Doc, but I don’t like cages much.” The chaotic noise of the alarm and the tramp of dozens of heavy booted feet against cement floors just outside his door seemed so far away; all Strange could hear was the Cheshire smile in Alice’s voice.

Then it was gone, replaced by a dial tone and the record, still skipping occasionally as it began to play a song that wasn’t meant to be there; a fifth track on a four track side:

_ Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai, _

_ Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai… _

****

_ Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai _ . Alice unlocked the door to the little studio apartment on the edge of Gotham’s East End.  _ Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai. _ She glanced back at Aparo Park over her shoulder, a rather pitiful expanse of green between her row of buildings and Gotham River, and across that…  _ Je te plumerai la tête. Je te plumerai la tête _ . Well, Alice could wonder, but she’d never seen much of a point in that.  _ Et la tête, Alouette. _ Unless it was to dream of endless forests and mountain ranges criss-crossed ill maintained paths and animal trails.  _ Alouette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai.  _ The tune she hummed turned dark and her green gaze narrowed slightly as she caught sight of a rather large piece of scrap metal from God knows where wedged against the rocky bank of the park.  _ Alouette, gentille alouette _ . Alice hesitated, torn between locking the door again while she went to clean up the metal and the call of her bed after a long day. _ Alouette, je te plumerai _ . She stopped humming as she slipped into the apartment and pulled a thick jacket from a hook just beside the entry. The door slammed behind her as she moved down the stairs as quickly as she could without falling, shrugging on the jacket and pulling a pair of worn leather gloves from one of the pockets.  Alice paused when she reached the shore, her gaze taking in the depth of the water, the size and shape of the portion of metal plate that was visible, an estimation of how heavy it would be and how much of it was in the mud-every bit of data, no matter how trivial it seemed- and storing it away in a matter of seconds. She took a deep breath, glancing again at the water with a wary eye; Gotham had had strange things in the water in the past, and she wasn’t overly fond of Gotham River’s dark depths. She shook the thought away and reached down into the water, her long fingers grazing the surprisingly smooth surface as she followed it into the mud; it wasn’t that deep.

A tug with a shifted grip.

Nothing, just some new cuts in the surface of her gloves that made Alice glad she’d worn them.

Shift again and another tug.

Not a budge.

Alice growled to herself and stepped around it to examine it again, ignoring the lap of icy water against her ankles as it seeped through her boots. She found nothing new, so she wrapped her fingers around the sides and tried again.

It came free from the mud with a sickening sound and Alice stumbled back, her boots sinking into the mud and sticking so that she toppled into the shallows with a cold splash and a noisy swear. Someone laughed lightly and she froze, looking up from the now free metal plate balanced on her shins to see a stranger. Her green eyes widened slightly, like a deer in headlights. The boy that stood on the bank wore an easy smile, his red hair combed back in a business-like manner to match his clothes; he looked to have just come from work in an office building downtown.

“Are you alright?” Alice blinked, regaining her composure as if someone had snapped and she was suddenly on a stage somewhere.

“Yeah,” she flashed a sheepish smile, “my feet got stuck in the mud, so when this thing came free…” she trailed off, kicking the metal plate off of her shins and onto the bank. He offered her a hand up and, after a second’s hesitation, she took it, letting him pull her to her feet, “Thanks.”   He shrugged.

“You’re the one pulling trash out of the river,” Alice resisted the urge to correct his use of the word “trash” as he continued, “Name’s Machin. Lonnie.” She flashed a smile so natural her audience would never guess she was a fraud.  

“Nikki Ӧman,” Lonnie raised an eyebrow at the made up name and briefly Alice wondered if he’d catch the joke; judging from the smile he wore again a moment later, she doubted it. “Well then, Mr. Machin, it was a pleasure meeting you, and thanks again for helping me out of the river, but,” Alice passed as she lifted the metal plate, “I’m late getting home as it is, and my parents are probably about to call the police, so I really should get going.” Lonnie started to say something in reply, but she was already walking back across the tiny park and to an alley between buildings. She climbed the stairs back up to her apartment and let herself back in, leaning the plate against the wall and hanging her coat back on the hook in the silence; she didn’t have anyone actually waiting for her to return, but she’d learned a long time ago that parents made excellent excuses to avoid conversations she didn’t want to have.

“Alice?” She nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected voice and whirled around to face the speaker.

“Edward!” A grin found its way to her face and she threw her arms around Edward Nygma in an uncharacteristic display of affection. They separated a moment later, rather awkwardly, and Alice kneaded the muscles in her other arm as she stared at the floor in front of her and he cleared his throat and tried to hide the slight tinge to his cheeks behind a fist. “I’m glad you’re back,” she spoke quietly when she finally broke the silence, her gaze flickering up to meet the gaze of her surrogate father for a second as he smiled briefly.

“I’m afraid I won’t be staying long though.” Alice’s green gaze snapped up to him again, all warmth seeping from her eyes as she studied him.

“You weren’t released, were you?” She phrased the words in a question, but her tone said she already knew the answer. Edward said nothing as she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know why it even matters,” she spoke with a small smile when she finally broke the silence again, “I’m still glad to see you; I’m just-” her smile slipped, “just so… tired.” He didn’t doubt her words, he could tell when her act faltered and her mask slipped that she was emotionally dead.

“Another gang trying to recruit you?” He spoke in the same manner he did every day when he was treating the other party as children, but something about his tone changed slightly when he spoke to her; it seemed more… respectful.

“Yeah,” Alice paused briefly, “well, no, it was The Wonderland Gang again, but…” Edward smirked as he moved to settle back into his armchair.

“And you said no again, I presume.” Alice collapsed onto the tattered old couch, swinging her legs around so that they hung over the low back.

“Of course.”

“And what was the reason this time?” Alice shrugged as best she could as her fingers picked absently at a hole in her black tights.

“Oh you know,” she flashed her Cheshire smile, “They wanted me to wear a skirt.” He chuckled at her lie but pressed no further. A comfortable silence fell again, unbroken until Alice seemed about to drift into sleep.

“Riddle me this,” she stifled a yawn and turned her head to watch him, “If the story is Alice in Wonderland, and tells of Wonderland through Alice’s visit; can the Wonderland Gang truly call themselves this when they are lacking in Alice?” Alice scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned her gaze back to the ceiling.

“You must have gotten rusty; that’s a terrible riddle.” She paused to laugh again, “And in answer, no they cannot, but they will continue to insist on trying to get an ‘Alice’ while using that name until she gives in,” Edward scoffed, “or they die,” she looked back over at him, “whichever comes first.” He tipped his head thoughtfully to one side and made a quiet sound of agreement as the silence returned. “About,” Alice shifted so that she was sitting up again, “the riddles,” His look turned apprehensive at the careful tone to her measured words, “have you ever considered that maybe,” she met his gaze, “leaving riddles is why you get caught?” He frowned at her.

“If I didn’t leave riddles, it wouldn’t be any fun.” Her gaze narrowed slightly at his almost childish excuse.

“Is Arkham ‘fun’?” He leaned back in his chair and she allowed a small smile to tug weakly at the corners of her mouth, “I’m not saying you’re wrong, or that it shouldn’t be fun, I’m just-” she stopped, took a breath, and began again, “I’m just making a suggestion if you, and I’m assuming you plan to, return to crime; maybe try to lay off the riddles,” she paused briefly, “at least until the news stops reporting on your escape.” Edward studied her for what felt like an eternity before he breathed a heavy sigh in defeat.

“You’re right,” Alice blinked in surprise at his verbal acknowledgement, but then he cracked one of his trademark arrogant grins, “what kind of master criminal leaves clues leading right to him?” She smiled softly in reply as he stood, “I’ve got some planning to do.” He spoke with a familiar wicked excitement that managed to make her feel much better about having to point out that his favourite pastime might have been a detriment to his career. She curled up on her side, cradling her head on her arm as she felt sleep renew its call for her.

“Good luck, Edward.” Alice spoke softly as she drifted off into peace and a rare, honest smile flickered across Edward’s face.

He pulled off his blazer and draped it over her shoulders before turning back to the chalkboard she had hung on the wall behind his chair.

****

Alice sat quietly in the chair across from Commissioner Gordon, watching him scribble his observations down in a notebook. 

“Alright Alice, I’m going to ask you some questions and then we’ll get you settled into a foster home,” Alice nodded slightly.

“What’s your full name?”

“Alison Nightingale.” She spoke softly, like she didn’t want anyone to hear. 

“And where are your parents?”

“I don’t know.” Gordon looked up in pity for a second at her answer.

“Where have you lived until now?”

“Mama Fortuna took me in.” Gordon exhaled slowly at the name. 

“Mr. Wayne informed me that you’re,” he paused to check his notes, “er-ergo-” he stopped, looking up again, “that you’re responsible for the power outage earlier today?” Alice nodded slightly and he took another deep breath, leaning back in his chair after placing his notes into an unmarked file.

“Commissioner Gordon?” Alice finally broke the silence.

“Yes?” 

“Is that all you have about me?” 

“Yes, why-?” He stopped when she caught hold of his hand and he found himself suddenly unable to move. Without his say in any of it, he lifted the file from his desk and placed it in the shredder beneath it, the loud sound of the machine filled the silence for a moment. 

“If I find out later that you have another copy somewhere, I will make you put your hand through the shredder,” she released her control over his face, “do you understand?” Commissioner Gordon nodded slowly, so Alice let go, relaxing visibly. “I’m sorry Commissioner, but I’d rather not have a file yet.” He nodded again, swallowing hard. “If at all possible, I’d like to stay away from foster homes as well, is there any way I can do that?” Gordon sat in thought for a moment, part of his brain still processing what the little girl across the table from him was capable of. 

“Phil Parsons’s summer camp,” he finally spoke, “I can pull some strings to get you admitted there for the rest of the summer at least.” He nodded, as if reaffirming his own idea. 

“Alright,” Alice smiled, but her green eyes seemed almost hollow, “Thank you, sir.” She started to get up to wait outside where she could watch the officers in the bullpen, but something made her pause. “Would it be possible for me to call Mr. Wayne? I’d like to thank him for helping me.”

****

Robin’s cellphone rang, cutting him off mid sentence and he stopped, looking down in surprise as he fished it from a pocket. The number that flashed across his screen wasn’t one he recognized, so he answered when curiosity got the better of him. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, Robin,” the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t one he knew, but he recognized an accent that placed her as a Gotham native. 

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” 

“It was quite easy, actually,” there was a playful smirk to her voice that normally would’ve set Robin’s teeth on edge, “seeing as I deal primarily in information.” there was a pause and Robin gestured at the rest of the team to set up a trace, “I’m calling to put in a formal request that you refrain from causing fights in that park; it cost an awful lot to restore it so quickly and it happens to be the only place in this city that I legitimately enjoy.” Robin blinked in surprise.

“You’ve already restored it?” The rest of the team stared at him.

“Of course.” She spoke matter of factly, as if it had been the easiest thing in the world.

“How?” The voice laughed softly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” there was a teasing lilt to her words, “Well Boy Wonder, let’s just say that for me, money means very little.” Robin started to make some smart remark, but she didn’t give him the chance, “and before you get into the ‘good guy lecture’, allow me to clarify: money means very little to me because it’s not necessary for my survival, so I donate just about all of my cut to charities meant to help people who have nothing,” there was a soft chuckle, a laugh so familiar and nostalgic that it chilled him to the bone, “you could say that I’m a thief with a heart.” Robin’s eyes widened as his earlier sense of dread came back to wind him, like a punch in the gut. 

“Ali?” His mouth had gone dry and the name sounded like a gasp when he finally choked it out. The team stared at him in their confusion, but he didn’t see them, his world had been torn away until it was only him and the dizzying silence broken by the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Oh,” her voice was soft and gentle; genuine even, “I’m sorry about your friend, Dick, that must’ve been painful to watch.” The line went dead and Robin was left staring blankly at the space in front of him; when he’d heard that laugh, he’d all but forgotten about Star.

“Rob,” Cyborg’s voice dragged Robin back to himself and he closed his phone carefully, “you okay?” He stood in silence for a long time, torn between renewing his hunt for Nightingale Industries, and walking away. 

“Yeah,” he finally spoke, filling himself with a resolve he didn’t quite feel as he put on a mask of unaffected normalcy, “yeah, fine. Did you get a trace on her?” Cyborg stepped to one side so that he could see the screen, the small target bouncing endlessly around the world in a repeating pattern, almost like sheet music. 

“It just keeps looping like that.” Robin stared at it for a moment longer before he reached out. A few keystrokes and the pattern was turned into music. “It really is her,” he breathed the words as the computer tones played a chilling melody. 

_ Allouette, gentille Allouette, _

_ Allouette, je te plumaire. _

****

_ Allouette, gentille Allouette, _

_ Allouette, je te plumaire. _

The faint melody drifted lazily through the Dojo as Dawn reached her rosy fingers up to tint the sky in a coppery hue. It had only been a week since Gordon had left Alice in the temporary care of Phillip “Dragoncat” Parsons, who admitted the girl without question or papers when she presented him with an envelope of cash neither he nor Gordon asked to know the source of. In that week, she’d more than caught up with her fellow students, excelling in each new subject with an insatiable desire for more. It wasn’t uncommon for Parsons to find her in the main dojo before and after the sun, practicing the latest lessons or some combination of Kenpo and Taido; it was rather strange for her to be singing though. The haunting melody followed the silence that filled the room and Parsons felt a chill run down his spine as he slid open one of the doors to find the room empty. 

“Alison?” He called into the room and the melody stopped, “where are you?” He stepped into the center of the room, listening for any sound of movement. There was a soft thud, like feet landing on the mat floor, and Parsons turned to find Alice standing at attention before him. “Where were you?” She pointed up, her green gaze never faltering in its hold of his. 

“No one remembers to look up, sensei,” her voice was soft. 

“And the song?” Alice blinked, taking her time to answer.

“I heard it once when I was at the fence of a school in the East End,” she shrugged, “I had it stuck in my head.”

“You are well aware of the rules, Alison; the Ninjutsu Dojo is a place of discipline,  _ not _ childish songs.” Alice held her tongue. 

“Yes sensei,” she spoke quietly. 

“Run, eight miles.” She exhaled slowly before bowing. 

“Yes, sensei,” with those words, she moved to the door and disappeared through it.

****

The turn around for eight miles came and went, but Alice kept running. She was going to the fence where she’d heard the song the first time, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. She got to the wrought iron fence just as the morning bell rang and the crowd of uniformed students began to make their way inside. All but one. The straggler backed away from the door until every student was inside and he could slip unnoticed into a nearby alley. Curiosity made Alice follow, but when she reached the opening, there was no one there. She frowned her mild disappointment. 

“Why were you following me?” It took everything Alice had not to jump at the voice and she whirled around to give him a piece of her mind when she recognised him. 

“Dick?” He blinked his dark blue eyes in shock.

“Alice?” Dick grabbed her by the hand and pulled her further into the alley, “what are you doing here?” Alice didn’t answer, she was too busy staring at his hand that hadn’t let go of hers; she wasn’t used to being touched if it wasn’t to hurt her. He followed her gaze after a moment and inhaled sharply, letting go as if he’d forgotten he was still holding it. “Sorry, I didn’t…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly as if to free himself of some inconvenient truth. 

“There was a song,” Dick stared, his brow furrowed as her gaze drifted up to meet his, “I heard it at the fence there once before,” a slight tinge of colour touched her cheeks and she averted her gaze, “I’d hoped to hear it again.” He was quiet for a long time before she dared to look up again and found a crooked smile tugging at his lips. 

“You came all the way here to hear a song?” He started to laugh, but she gave him an indignant glare. 

“If you’d grown up where I had, you’d be doing the same thing.” He frowned his confusion so she continued, “We weren’t allowed music,” another pause, “and this song is about a bird, so it kind of…” she trailed off, waving a hand as if her wild gestures would help her remember the word.

“Stuck with you?” Alice smiled and nodded, “why?”

“Mama always called me her little bird,” she left out the exact name; she wanted to stay off record as long as possible. He didn’t press.

“You like birds, then?” Alice smiled and Dick smiled back, offering his hand, “come on, I want to show you something.” She hesitated a moment, chewing her lip as she decided how much to trust him before she finally took his hand and allowed him to lead her out onto the sidewalk. 

****

Dick led her to the zoo, telling her to wait beneath a bronze lion statue until he came to get her, but his excitement was gone when he came back. Alice tipped her head to one side, studying him until he came within earshot. 

“What’s wrong?” He looked up briefly before looking back at his hands.

“The park is closed,” he looked up again, “I wanted to show you the aviary, but…” he trailed off, looking sorely disappointed. Alice wasn’t sure what this place or an aviary were, but she felt a twinge of disappointment at the look on Dick’s face, so she stood with a smile and a plan.

“Come with me,” she started off along the fence without waiting for an answer, pausing every now and then to to peek through the cracks. 

“Alice,” Dick trailed after her, “what are you doing?” She took another look and smiled, stepping back as she turned her gaze to him, her green eyes alight with a mischievous glint.

“Come on,” she offered her hand, but he gave her an apprehensive look, “Don’t you trust me?” Dick glared. 

“We met because you stole my wallet,” he pointed out and Alice glared back.

“Take my hand or I’m leaving you here,” it was an empty threat, she had no idea why he wanted into this place and going alone would defeat the purpose of the whole walk there. Still he took her hand, and she flashed another smile before stepping through the fence as if it weren’t even there. 

****

It happened before anyone in the room could react. Alison Nightingale, they all knew, was to be treated with utmost caution. But they hadn’t really understood until she moved  _ through _ the metal chains that had kept her in her chair across the table. 

It had started out normally, with an introduction from Professor Hugo Strange and a few standard questions, until she raised two fingers, as if to ask a question of her own. 

“Yes, Alison?” She tipped her head slightly to one side. 

“Are you going to… fix me?”

“We’re going to try,” he smiled reassuringly, but to Alice it looked like nothing but teeth, “you never know with all of the advances in psychological treatments…” Strange trailed off when faced with the bored expression she wore. “Is something wrong, Alison?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to need a lot more than all of that psycho babble to get to the bottom of what’s ‘wrong’ with me.” He frowned and breathed a heavy sigh. “A brilliant mind by all accounts,” he looked back down at the file in front of him, “and now just another resident of Arkham.” Alice flashed a wicked grin, eyes alight with an intelligence they couldn’t hope to understand. 

“I’m just passing through, Doc,” he swallowed, consciously tearing his gaze away from hers to make a note in the file. 

“It’s understandable with your circumstances,” he spoke gently, trying to sound as though he could empathise, “Your parents are undocumented, you spent the first few years of your life with one Mama Fortuna, where the file says you were abused often and taught how to commit petty crimes that,” he paused, raising an eyebrow, “‘paid your dues’ so that you’d have shelter in the winter. Then she died, a murder that remains unsolved, and you spent the summer at the Ninjutsu camp of Phil ‘Dogcat’ Parsons before being unofficially adopted by one Andrew Menick, later revealed to be Edward Nygma, who helped you perfect your ‘talents’ in the Criminal Arts.” Strange closed the file and took another deep breath, “With a background like that, Alison, it’d be a miracle if you had come out without any psychological… afflictions.” He tented his fingers and peered at Alice over the tops of his glasses, “We’d like to help you, Alison.” A wry smile twisted her lips into a very cheshire grin as she leaned back in her chair, the chains clinking softly together. 

“‘The Criminal Arts’,” she laughed softly, “I like the sound of that,” she paused briefly, “has a respectable ring to it, doesn’t it?” The guard at the door could stay quiet no longer, and he glared as he opened his mouth. 

“Give the pity a rest, Professor, she’s not a ‘victim of circumstance’, she’s just a crook.” Alice’s gaze was suddenly empty, and as the guard turned to meet it, it was as if time had slowed.  _ Picture a glass that’s been knocked from the counter; it seems to fall in slow motion as we watch, knowing we should try to stop it and yet not moving to do so. _ That was Alice, moving through the chains that kept her seated and the guard began to pull his gun, but she countered him, knocking his arm aside as she gripped his shoulder.  _ The glass bounces once, tipped off the edge of the counter. _ The guard’s hand moved slowly until he, reduced to tears at his inability to fight, pressed the muzzle against the roof of his mouth. The shot went off and like glass shattering against the floor, the silent detachment was broken as blood painted the white walls,

_ Like white roses red… _

****

_ Each shade from a different person’s head. _ The melody reached Robin’s ears as he turned the corner to find Beast Boy still guarding the door to Titan Tower’s basement.  _ This dream, dream is a killer, getting drunk with a blue caterpillar _ . 

“She’s awake, then?” He couldn’t help his bitter tone as he approached the door. 

“Been singing for the last twenty minutes or so,” Garfield rubbed the back of his neck as the melody continued,  _ I’m peeling the skin off my face, ‘Cause I really hate being safe. _ “The melodies are fine, but some of the lyrics are pretty depressing.” Robin nodded slightly, the girl’s words sending a chill down his spine.  _ The normals, they make me afraid; the crazies, they make me feel sane. _ He took a deep breath and palmed the door. 

“Wish me luck.” Garfield nodded slightly before the door slid shut between them.  _ I’m nuts, baby, I’m mad; the craziest friend that you’ve ever had.  _ “I believe that place is taken,” Robin whispered the reply as he began down the stairs.  _ You think I’m psycho, you think I’m gone.  _ The light was on, but still he was having second thoughts about putting the girl in amongst so many hiding places.  _ Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong. _ He looked up to find her lounging on one of the rafters, much like she had been in the tree at the park.

“ _ Over the bend, entirely- _ ”

“Do you know anything less depressing?” Robin interrupted her and she glanced at him, thoughtful for a moment. 

“Oh!” She smiled and for a moment, Robin was shocked at how human she looked when the last time he’d seen her, it’d been like she was dead inside. “Ole Black N Blue Eyes by The Fratellis,” she looked back over at him, “heard it?” She seemed completely unfazed by the situation she’d woken up in; not like it was a game to her, but she didn’t seem to be taking it seriously. 

“I’ve heard  _ of _ The Fratellis, but I can’t say I’ve heard that particular song,” Robin leaned back against a support beam, allowing himself to get sucked into the conversation like he had so many times with Alice as a child. 

“I could sing it, though I’m afraid I wouldn’t do it justice,” the girl trailed off, making the quiet comment into a question.

“Sure,” he slid down the wall to sit on the concrete floor, stretching his legs out in front of him as the girl smiled and began to sing. 

_ Well, she wants to be a singer in the band _

_ Maybe I’ll give the girl a hand  _

_ And a microphone _

_ Looks like she’s all alone _

_ She can bring a friend _

_ Though she’s not my kind of friend _

_ She keeps staring me out  _

_ With her ole black and blue eyes. _

****

_ And I can take her dancing just to give the girl a chance _ . Edward was gone when Alice woke up on her tattered old sofa.  _ I was never that good at being nice when I should. _ She hadn’t been surprised, he had crimes to commit, afterall.  _ I guess that she’ll forgive me right before she tries to kill me. _ She sang along softly to the song while she worked through her latest book of puzzles, solving each page in a matter of seconds.  _ ‘Cause I sold her on yesterday’s “come take me home” eyes _ . There was a knock at the door and Alice reached out to pause her walkman, pulling her headphones down around her neck while she moved to answer the door. 

“Hello?” Her pleasant demeanor changed the moment she saw who was on the other side. “Oh,” She smiled bitterly, “I didn’t realise it was Halloween, I would’ve decorated.” The two men on her step glared at her, their broad shouldered bulk more than filling the doorway, “So let me guess,” she paused in thought, “you’re a narwhal and you’re… a lit match.” She pointed to the Unicorn and the Lion in turn, deliberately mocking their stylized costumes. They ignored her, gritting their teeth as they checked their tempers; she wasn’t much use injured and the boss would have their heads.

“Your presence has been requested by criminal royalty,” the Unicorn began and a false light lit up Alice’s face.

“Criminal Royalty?” She laughed with an excitement that matched her expression. “Oh goody, I don’t suppose that means this is your last try?” The men glared and she deflated slightly in disappointment. 

“We’ve been ordered to bring you-” 

“No.” All light was gone from Alice’s expression as she cut them off, “I’m not joining your bloody gang and you can tell your ‘criminal royalty’ to take that crown and shove it.” She slammed the door before they could respond, pausing to take a deep breath and relax her shaking hands, closing them into fists. Then she returned to her book of puzzles and pulled her headphones back up. 

And she hit play. 

****

Prof. Hugo Strange: Taped patient interview. Patient’s name is Alison Nightingale. In the room is armed guard by Warden’s request and myself, Professor Hugo Strange. 

Alison Nightingale: What’s with the talking as if I’m not here? Is it part of another boring psychological evaluation things?

Strange: After the unfortunate incident with the guard in your last evaluation, the warden has requested I tape all of our sessions henceforth.

Nightingale: ‘Unfortunate’... I don’t recall anything terribly unfortunate…

Strange: You made the man shoot himself, Alison, it’s a miracle he isn’t dead.

Nightingale: Ah yes, I suppose that was unfortunate. 

Strange: So you know what you did wrong?

Nightingale: Yes (pause) I missed.

Strange: Your record points to a virtually nonexistent moral compass, sure…

Nightingale: (laughs) Is this the part where you try to… riddle me out?

Strange: But you can’t honestly  _ enjoy _ toying with people like that.

** Nightingale: You think? (laugh) Whatever helps you sleep at night, Doc. (laughter) **


End file.
